Strings of vibrant buntings and flowers adorned the Nawab Umar Bahadur Khan Orphanage. Children, who typically disliked changing clothes, were bathed and dressed in their finest attire, ready to enjoy the posh army band playing upbeat tunes in the garden below. Laughter and squeals of joy echoed as Asiya led the younger children to join the older girls practising their dance steps. The jubilant hum of the place gave way to whispered giggles as the royal entourage arrived for the symbolic ribbon-cutting ceremony.
Asiya watched Shair, so at ease in the company of royalty, yet equally charming with the children. He was a force of nature, drawing everyone to him. He was a star!
His Imperial Majesty the Shah of Iran, the Governor of Punjab, Chaudhary Allayaar, and other local officials toured the orphanage. In his inaugural speech, the Shah of Iran called Shair "a brilliant sportsman, with a noble heart and an exemplary figure for the youth of Pakistan."
The security personnel, protocol officers, press, honorary guests, and chief guests all seemed like characters from 'Alice in Wonderland' to the children. Polished, uniformed figures materialised on cue, played their parts, interacted briefly, and moved on without a backwards glance. The children watched this display of the elite with wide-eyed fascination. It inspired them to put even more effort into the skits and folk dances they performed. The beautiful and philanthropic Queen Farah Diba was touched by their talent and distributed gifts to all of them. The wide-eyed children even had a photo session with the royal guests. This brief taste of VIP treatment elated them for months, offering a much-needed ray of hope in their otherwise desolate lives.
The Queen, known for her grace and elegance, was the centre of attention, but Shair's gaze remained fixed on the modestly dressed Asiya. He introduced her to the Queen, highlighting Asiya's dedication to the orphans. A quiet pride swelled in his chest as he watched Asiya interact with royalty, her poise and genuine kindness shining through. He knew he was right about her.
***
Later, after the commotion subsided and the children fell asleep, Shair visited the orphanage and sought out Asiya. Leaning against a round pillar, he placed an unlit cigarette between his lips, then immediately removed it. Unable to stand still, he paced the garden, enjoying the cool night air. He heard her soft footsteps before she appeared. Shair gestured for her to sit on the steps, as they had before, and sat down beside her. The steady chirping of crickets in the velvety darkness punctuated their comfortable silence. The day's chaos and the demands of tomorrow faded into this welcome peace.
Shair wanted this feeling of home to last forever, but he knew he had to break the silence. "By the way, Miss Asiya," he began, "we don't have locks on the children's bathroom doors so the little ones don't get trapped inside."
"Oh, that was so embarrassing. Yes, I was told," she giggled.
She looked so radiant that Shair felt possessive of her. He wanted to be the reason for her glow.
"You looked very different today," he commented, wondering if she was as enamoured of him as he was of her.
"Well, obviously," she replied with a small, self-conscious laugh. "Because I was wearing borrowed clothes. I couldn't very well meet the Queen in the drab garments I wear every day!" Asiya chuckled, wondering if Shair could possibly be so naive.
"Drab garments?!" Shair snorted, a laugh catching in his throat. The irony was palpable; she bewitched him so effortlessly, unaware of the spell she cast every single day. He, usually the one pursued, found himself utterly disarmed. Yet, this unbelievable woman he was obsessed with seemed oblivious to her own worth, let alone his feelings! "Asiya… Do you realise just how beautiful you are?"
Asiya, taken aback by Shair's boldness, blushed a deep maroon and awkwardly shifted as if to escape.
Afraid of her reaction, Shair stood up to face her, looking more handsome than ever against the dark backdrop of the night. "I got you something," he told her.
Asiya stared at the bits of grass clinging to his polished black shoes and the perfectly tied bows of his shoe laces for a moment before asking shyly, "What is it that you got me?"
"Oh, I'm sorry," he said, embarrassed. He took off his flat cap and offered it to her.
Confused as to why he was offering his cap, she hesitated. But to her surprise, it was full of sweet-smelling jasmine. Her face lit up, and she carefully picked out the fragrant white strands. "They're beautiful, Nawab Sahib. Thank you so much!" she exclaimed with glee, the earlier awkwardness forgotten.
"I didn't want anyone to see me bringing them, so I had to hide them," he said, still slightly embarrassed by the need for subterfuge. He took a deep breath, gathering the courage he didn't know he needed. "Asiya?" His heart pounded as he waited for her to look up. When she did, he couldn't stop himself. He whispered his plea, "Marry me…"
Asiya froze, shocked by the sudden proposal. She stared at him, shaking her head involuntarily.
Shair was bewildered by her reaction. Before he could stop her, she cried, "No! No!" and ran. He followed her to her room, but she locked the door from the inside.
He knocked a few times. When he was certain that she wouldn't open the door and speak to him, Shair went home utterly perplexed. The rejection came as a complete shock. Was she interested in someone else? She couldn't possibly be engaged already; he hadn't heard of or seen any competition. Did she simply dislike him? The idea that anyone could reject him had never crossed his mind. It was preposterous. He went to his mother's room. She was sitting upright on her sofa, a grey face mask drying on her face, while a maid gave her a foot rub. Without greeting her or waiting for the maid to leave, he confided his recent, inexplicable failure.
Her eyes still closed, she smiled. "Who is this, Asiya?"
Her calmness irritated Shair. "The girl I want to marry; she is an immigrant who grew up in the orphanage."
Begum Zubaida smirked. "She's certainly clever for a nobody!"
Her comment left Shair speechless. After a moment of silence, she removed the cucumbers from her eyes and fixed her gaze on him. "She seems like a gold-digger or remarkably astute and knows her place in society. Either way, she can be nothing more than your plaything. Abidah Chaudhary will be the only wife you ever have." She moved to the stool in front of her dressing table, where the maid began wiping off her face mask. "I suggest you forget this nonsense and concentrate on more important things, like the industrial project I mentioned earlier."
Shair stood staring at his mother momentarily before he dashed out of her room. Her words rang in his ears as he paced his library. How could she dismiss Asiya so easily? The sheer injustice of it fueled a new defiance within him.